


Weight of the World

by Evuniala



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Magic, Retelling, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:56:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17519135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evuniala/pseuds/Evuniala
Summary: Evuniala Lavellan had one task; travel to the conclave, listen and report back. But things rarely turn out the way you want them to and suddenly she finds herself flung into a world she knows next to nothing about, where she is considered a dangerous apostate...as well as the Herald of Andraste.





	1. Ir Abelas

**Author's Note:**

> This is my retelling of the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Some artistic liberties have been taken with the story. I hope you will enjoy it regardless!

Waking up was painful. Every single muscle in her body was screaming loudly in protest as she surfaced from sleep. And she had barely even begun to move. She opened her eyes just a fraction, but quickly closed them again as the bright light seared her vision. She took a few steadying breaths, trying to calm herself as well as catalogue her various hurts and pains. From what she could tell she was not seriously injured, nothing was broken, but damn! She hurt!

Bracing herself for the onslaught of bright light she once again attempted to open her eyes. Keeping her eyes narrowed to slits helped a little and she was able to form a blurry picture of her surroundings. She was in a dimly lit room, the light coming from a merrily burning fire and several candles. The walls were made from rough wooden planks and unadorned. The room itself was simply furnished and very sparsely decorated. A loud “thunk!” suddenly made her jump and she yelped both from surprise and pain. She looked around wildly until her eyes fell upon a frail looking elven woman at the foot of the bed.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake! I swear!” the elven woman was stammering and slowly backing away, casting a frightened glance between Evuniala and the door.  
Wincing and grimacing, Evuniala attempted to sit up straighter as well as gather her wits, trying to make sense of where she was and what had happened to bring her here.  
“Don’t worry about it. I only…” something must have shown on her face, because the elven woman almost tripped over her own words as she tried to explain.  
“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days.” The servant kept her gaze humbly on the floor, as if she expected a lashing and Evuniala felt rage starting to surge in the pit of her stomach.

Three days? She’d been asleep for THREE DAYS?! And what was with the whole “my lady” business? She had never been called “my lady” in her life. That was a shemlen title as far as she knew, and it only served to make her even more uneasy and on edge. But raging at the poor servant wouldn’t help and she took another steadying breath, trying to recall exactly what had happened three days ago.

As she focused, bits and pieces of memory slowly began to surface and she started putting them together to form a cohesive whole. The conclave, the explosion, the woman in white, the hole in the sky, being held prisoner, the mark on her hand, closing the breach... Seeker Pentaghast, Sister Leliana, the apostate… what was his name? Right. Solas… and Varric. Their faces took shape within her mind as the pieces of the puzzle finally came together and started to make some sort of sense.  
“So…you’re saying they’re happy with me?”

“I'm only saying what I heard... I didn't mean anything by it. I'm certain lady Cassandra would like to know you've wakened. She said, ‘at once’.”  
Lady Cassandra? Oh. Right. Seeker Pentaghast. Did Seeker Pentaghast still believe her guilty for what had happened at the conclave? Was she still considered a prisoner? Only one way to find out, she supposed… if only she could get her damn limbs to move!

Grunting from the effort she eventually managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed and pull herself into a sitting position. She regarded the servant again, taking in the woman’s cowering form. She really was afraid of her… the realization struck her like one of her own lightning bolts and suddenly she wanted to get out of that house, away from the elven woman who regarded her with both fear and reverence in equal measure.  
“…and where is Seeker Pentaghast?”  
“In the chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once’, she said!” Evuniala’s words of thanks died on her lips as the elven servant fled from the room. Rage still simmering in her stomach Evuniala slowly got to her feet, looked around the room one last time before heading out to meet Seeker Pentaghast.

*

She was not a prisoner. At least not in the usual sense of the word. But she might as well have been. ‘The Herald of Andraste’! What utter nonsense! Silly shemlen superstition! Saviour of their world? Because of a freak accident and a souvenir on her hand that could close rifts? She couldn’t even remember how she had ended up with it! But the shemlen had seen her emerge from the rift and then proceed to close it, and because of it she was their god cursed saviour… their Herald. The fact that she was an elf, a Dalish elf at that, didn’t seem to make a difference. It was unexpected and most people seemed quite uneasy and unnerved by that fact, but they still believed… Fen’harel take them! They still believed she would save them.

And because of that single fact, because they believed in her, she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t refuse the ridiculous title and wash her hands of the whole operation. She couldn’t go back home and pretend everything was back to normal. She had to stay and see it through. So she might not be a prisoner in the usual sense of the word, but she was as bound to the fate of the Inquisition now as any prisoner was to his prison. It was not a very uplifting thought.

*

_“Keeper,_  
 _I failed you. I failed our people. I failed to complete my mission…”_

She crumpled up the note, starting over.

_“Keeper,  
I will not be coming home. Not for a while yet. My mission here is not yet complete and it has gotten a lot more complicated…”_

“’A lot more complicated?’ Well, that is one way of putting it…” she sighed, crumpled up the parchment and tossed it onto the floor.  
“’A lot more complicated…’ That is such an inadequate way of describing this shit-smelling mess…” she muttered to herself and dragged another piece of parchment towards her, her pen poised above it in preparation of trying again. But no words came. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t find the words to describe her current predicament.

How could she tell her clan that she had failed them? How could she tell them that she had been dragged into the dangerous game of shemlen politics and emerged as the figurehead of their Inquisition? How could she tell them that the shemlen relied on her to save them, save the world, and should she fail her clan, all Dalish, all elves, would suffer the consequences?  
There were no words. But she still tried.

_“Ir abelas.”_

She stared at the two words for a long time. A tear trickled unbidden down her cheek as the words resounded in her head. _Ir abelas._ I am sorry. Another tear followed the first one as the weight of her unwanted title pressed down upon her shoulders. She wiped her cheeks angrily, trying to remove the evidence of her self-indulged self-pity, but that only made the tears fall faster. In the end it was useless to fight against it and she eventually succumbed to the anger and grief that had threatened to consume her for days now. _Ir abelas._ I am sorry.


	2. Lessons in Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evuniala finds herself under the tutelage of Solas, much to her dismay. She is the First of the Keeper of Clan Lavellan...why would she need instruction like a child?!

Being a figurehead for the Inquisition was not as straightforward and simple as she had expected. She figured that the minds behind the operation, Seeker Pentaghast, Sister Leliana, Lady Montilyet and Commander Rutherford, would just prop her up and dust her off and present her to the masses whenever she was needed. But in reality she was running errands all over the place, extending the reach of the Inquisition to every corner of Thedas. It lifted her spirits a little, since it made her feel at the very least useful, but at the same time she felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable. She had no idea what she was doing half the time and while she had received some training in leadership from the Keeper she was not prepared to put that training into practice so soon.

In the beginning she tried to defer and delegate the responsibilities to the companions who travelled with her on her missions, especially to Cassandra, but in time she was made to understand that she was supposed to shoulder this burden on her own. Lady Montilyet, Sister Leliana and Commander Rutherford all had opinions and strategies in regards to the different missions they discussed around the war table, but in the end it was her opinions and decisions that mattered. She had no idea why. She was nobody, a Dalish elf and, in the eyes of the chantry, an apostate. Why did her opinions matter? Just because she carried that stupid mark and had the ability to close rifts? How did they know that that made her fit to lead? Blind faith. That was all it was. Blind faith. But while she didn’t understand their reasoning a part of her enjoyed this chance to learn more and put the skills learned from her clan into practice.

*

The magic thrummed in her veins and she could feel little eddies of it crackle along her skin. She relished the sensation, it made her feel awake, alive. She twirled her staff, slamming the butt end of it into the ground, releasing the gathered magic in a surge. Lightning crackled as it jumped in a chain from rock to rock, melting the snow and singeing the ground beneath. A pleased smile crossed her lips as she beheld the sparking purple arches of lighting, her creation, her magic.  
“Interesting technique. A bit rudimentary perhaps, but interesting.”  
Evuniala whirled around, startled, and stared at Solas. She hadn’t heard him approach, caught up in the bubble of her own magic as she was.  
“’Rudimentary’? What do you mean ‘rudimentary’?” She narrowed her eyes, feeling a bit offended by this unwelcome critique.  
“You have a firm grasp of the basics, that is quite clear, but you could use a bit more… finesse, in your execution.” Solas expression was the same as always, serene and impossible to read, which only served to fan the flames of her anger further. She straightened, her hands, curled into fists, emitted faint sparks, betraying her agitation. Solas noticed, of course, and the faintest smirk of amusement crossed over his lips.  
“Perhaps you should work on controlling your emotions a bit better as well while you are at it. Your emotions betray you, da’len.”  
“Then perhaps you should teach me, if you are so knowledgeable, hahren.” She shot back, the last word lacking the usual tone of respect that was its due.  
Solas inclined his head, another faint, and infuriating, smirk on his lips.  
“Ma nuvenin, da’len.”

Bristling, Evuniala glared at him, refusing to break his stare and be the one to look away first. Solas kept on smiling serenely and nodded towards her staff.  
“You will not be needing that for now.”  
“Why not?”  
The smile widened a fraction, and she thought she saw a hint of approval in his eyes, before he arranged his expression into his usual unreadable mask.  
“Because you use your staff like a crutch at the moment. You allow the staff to direct the flow of magic for you, instead of using it as an extension of yourself to direct your magic.”  
Seeing Evuniala’s look of disbelief Solas sighed and tried again, endless patience colouring his voice.  
“Magic is all around you, and as a mage you can shape it into whatever form you like. It is an extension of your will. A staff is just a conduit, something to help direct the flow of your magic. You can choose to wield it like a brute, without skill or finesse, or you can wield it like an expert swordsman, with grace and precision.”  
“So… you’re saying that I am currently just… clobbering my opponents over the head with my magic, like a brute with a club?”  
“That is… not exactly how I would phrase it, but in essence it is correct.” Another hint of amusement and approval, there and gone so quickly Evuniala thought she had imagined it.  
“Fine. No staff for now.”  
“Very good, da’len. Now, let us begin…”

*

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run towards the scene and smother the electrical fireworks created by the Herald. He could feel the way the fade responded to her will, he could almost taste the ashes her experimentation left in the air. His Templar training as well as his past experiences yelled at him to stop it, to end her and her apostate tutor. Now! But another part of him found the crackle in the air, the wildly surging storm of magic enthralling. Intoxicating almost.

He had always had a certain fascination for mages. Back during the blight when he was young and innocent there had been a mage at the circle who had caught his interest. He hadn’t done more than long for her from afar and perhaps that was for the best, considering what had happened afterwards. No. Mages were best avoided and leashed, if at all possible. They were a danger to themselves and to everyone around them…and yet…

Sighing, he turned away from the hill and the sight of the Herald playing with her lightning storms. The papers on his desk beckoned and, rubbing his neck in discomfort, he sat down to take care of the day’s business. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not shut out the tickle of magic against his skin completely.

*

Lessons with Solas progressed slowly, but steadily, forwards and she began to see that he’d had a point that first day. Admitting that he’d been right was not something she would ever voice aloud, but her demeanour towards him had thawed slightly. Now their lessons consisted not only of practical magical training, but they also discussed the fade and its denizens in more detail. Evuniala found herself fascinated by Solas’ stories of his explorations and she had yet to encounter anyone who had traversed as far into the fade as he had.

“If our enemies destroyed the world I would have nowhere to lay my head while dreaming of the fade.” Solas said one afternoon after a long stretch of silence.  
“I wish you luck.” Her own response was slightly absentminded, her mind occupied with solving a tricky magical puzzle Solas had set her earlier.  
“Thank you.” His voice was a bit tart and Evuniala looked up from the glowing strands of the puzzle to give him a quick, apologetic smile.  
“In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the fade.”  
Slightly confused now, Evuniala abandoned her puzzle completely and frowned at Solas.  
“How so?”  
“You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit.”  
Wait…what? Was that… a compliment? Hidden in there somewhere?  
“My indomitable focus?” She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. -If- it was a compliment, it was very poorly presented.  
“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be…fascinating.” She couldn’t tell if there was any hidden meaning to his words, since he appeared to be as unfazed as usual, but the emphasis on his last word sent a slight electrical current jolting between them. Evuniala narrowed her eyes for a moment before dismissing the exchange.  
“Huh…” She bowed her head, returning her attention towards the puzzle again.  
Silence fell between them once more, but the electrical charge in the air refused to disappear. It made her slightly uncomfortable and to diffuse the tension she grasped at the first question that entered her mind.

“About the spirits you’ve encountered while travelling in the fade…you trust them not to possess you the first time you accidentally make a wish?”  
Now it was Solas’ turn to arch an eyebrow.  
“Do you trust your friends not to turn on you?”  
“Well, yes. But they’re people.”  
“Ah. Of course.” It was said with some amount of scorn, and Evuniala shot him an annoyed glance.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“Are people only people because they are flesh and blood? Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?”  
She pondered this for a minute, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.  
“You have an interesting way of looking at the world, Solas.”  
“I try…and that isn’t quite an answer.” She wasn’t looking at him, but she could hear the amusement in his voice now. The electricity in the air sparked. Damnit! Again, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  
“I look forward to helping you make new friends.” Of all the stupid things to say! Really… get a grip, woman.  
“That should…well.” At least she had caught him by surprise this time and happily exchanged her confusion for smugness.  
“Hah! That isn’t quite an answer, either.”


	3. Overtures of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander of the Inquisition's fear of mages grates on Evuniala's nerves and she decides to see if something can be done about it.

As the days passed by Evuniala became more and more involved in the running of the Inquisition. She had always loved learning and knowledge and soaked up everything like a sponge. She had her lessons with Solas, of course, but she found herself trailing everyone else from time to time too. She liked watching Cassandra spar with the soldiers, studying her technique and movement with interest. Lady Montilyet’s political machinations used to give her a headache, but after having spent an afternoon with the woman and watching her handle one delicate situation after another with an expert hand she had a newfound respect for the ambassador.  
Leliana, on the other hand, possessed a type of cunning and subtlety Evuniala could only envy. Next to the pair of them, she felt like a bumbling calf. But she was determined to learn as much as she could. So she spent some of her days helping Leliana handle her agents and some days in Josephine’s study. The only one of her advisors that she avoided spending time with was Commander Rutherford.

The first time she’d met him he had been courteous enough, inquiring how she felt about this mess they all found themselves in, but she could see the reservation towards her in his eyes. It took her a while to figure out why, but once she learned that he had once been a Templar most of the pieces fell into place. Though, a few things about that fact still bothered her. Cassandra and Leliana were both from the Chantry, and neither of them looked at her like she might explode at any second and wreak havoc upon everyone. But the Commander looked at her with distrust and fear, and it made her both sad and uneasy.

Even if they hadn’t been directly involved in it, the news about the mage and Templar war had reached her and her clan and eventually it had forced them to move. She knew that both sides were probably at fault, even if she tended to side with the mages. Having been born free herself, she couldn’t imagine having to live shut away in a circle. It would drive her mad, for sure. But she also knew that magic was dangerous, if used without precautions, so she could understand the Commander’s reservations up to a point. But she also felt that she should have proved enough times by now that she was in control, worthy of trust. But still, there was this fear.

The commander’s fear grated against her senses and made her irritable, like a cat whose fur was being stroked the wrong way. They had to work together, for the good of all of Thedas, but as things stood right now it didn’t look like the issue would resolve itself anytime soon. Somehow, he had to learn how to trust her. The only question was; how?

*

One day she found herself wandering the soldier encampment. She wasn’t in the mood for spending the afternoon with Cassandra, Solas, Leliana, Josephine or Varric, but then she spied the Commander and an idea presented itself to her. Maybe all she needed to do was to show the Commander that she was a person, just like him? Perhaps making an effort to be nice to him would help win him over and make him stop fearing her? It was worth a try at least, since having his fear beating against her senses at every hour of the day was becoming unbearable.

He was standing with his back to her, immersed in watching the soldiers train, and she stopped some distance away so as not to scare him. She coughed politely to make her presence known, but he still went completely rigid at the sight of her. Arms crossed over his chest and a forbidding expression on his face he followed her gaze towards the soldiers.  
“We’ve received a number of recruits – locals from Haven and some pilgrims.”  
He surveyed her again.  
“None made quite the entrance you did.”  
She offered him a tentative smile and hoped that an attempt at humour would show him that she was harmless.  
“At least I got everyone’s attention.”  
A muscle at the corner of his mouth jumped a little, as if he wanted to smile despite himself.  
“That you did.”

Silence stretched out between them and Evuniala grasped for something to say, but the Commander forestalled her.  
“I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself. I was there during the mage uprising – I saw first-hand the devastation it caused.”  
Evuniala blinked as he offered up this piece of information, nodding slowly. It added another piece to the puzzle and could possibly be an explanation for his distrust of her.  
“Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.”  
Evuniala cast an involuntary glance up towards the breach, shuddering a little.  
“The conclave destroyed, a giant hole in the sky – things aren’t looking good.” Humour had worked the first time, hopefully it would again.  
“Which is why we are needed. The chantry lost control over both Templars and mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the breach remains.” It was almost as if he had forgotten who he was talking to, which she figured to be some kind of progress. This was the first time he’d freely offered up any kind of information and she dared not interrupt him, lest he clam up again.  
“The Inquisition could act when the chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There’s so much we can…-“He suddenly checked himself. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and said apologetically:  
“Forgive me. I doubt you came here for a lecture.”  
Smiling at his apparent passion for the subject, she shook her head in turn.  
“No. But if you have one prepared I’d love to hear it.”  
Her comment earned her a startled laugh.  
“Another time perhaps.”

She allowed her smile to grow into a grin and nodded. The Commander just stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted two extra heads and at his expression her grin died. They stared at one another in silence for a few moments.  
“I…ah…-“He cleared his throat. “There’s still a lot of work ahead.”  
She only nodded in response, too stunned by his expression to say anything else. Thankfully an agent came running at that precise moment, waving a report and mentioning supply lines. Evuniala let out a relieved sigh and the Commander mumbled something about “duty calls” before swiftly striding off together with the agent. She stared after them for a few moments, trying to convince herself she had made at least some progress today.

*

He really did try to make sense of the report and pay attention to what the agent was telling him…he really did. But it was difficult. Incredibly difficult. He had to force himself not to look over his shoulder and try to find her with his gaze. But he could still feel her magic singing along every nerve in his body, gliding over his skin like a caress. It was intoxicating. Maddening. And it scared him half to death. He’d always been able to feel mages as a Templar, but not like this. Never like this.

The first time he’d seen her, he’d felt it. It had hit him like a punch in the gut and he had taken great care to avoid her as best he could ever since. They did meet occasionally, since their respective positions demanded it, but at least he could prepare himself for that. He had hoped that his coldness towards her would keep her away, especially since she seemed to go to great lengths to spend time with everyone else but him, but apparently he’d been wrong. Andraste only knew what had possessed her to seek him out today.

It had been an effort of will to stay cold in the face of her tentative overtures of friendship, but he had slipped up. Somehow she had gotten past his guard and he couldn’t help but respond to her. Her magic had surged in response to her happiness at finding him receptive, and it had washed over him like a tidal wave. And Maker’s breath! She had grinned at him…it had lit up her face from within, the joy making her green eyes sparkle and it had almost been his undoing. He had almost lost control of himself, but the fear had won out in the end. 

All she had done was to talk and smile at him. Nothing more. And he was in free fall. Maker have mercy on him.


	4. Decisions and Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evuniala makes a decision that leads to nightmares and heavy drinking...

Over the next couple of weeks the Inquisition kept growing steadily. Volunteers and new recruits kept trickling in every day and soon Evuniala found the Inquisition’s inner circle filled to the brim with people. It was almost like being back with her clan. Almost. She had made tentative approaches of friendship towards most of the new members to the inner circle, but she could not say she knew any of them very well yet. Between making new friends and running countless of errands for the Inquisition and her allies she barely had time to sleep or relax. At least it felt that way. The only good thing that came from running herself ragged like that was that she was too exhausted at the end of the day to ponder the Commander’s continued coldness towards her and the strange attraction between her and Solas. But she could only push herself so far before the stress was bound to catch up with her.

They had been in the war room within the chantry for hours. The arguments of who they should turn to for help had escalated almost to the point of violence. The Commander was all for turning to the Templars for help, of course, and had become white as a sheet with rage when Leliana had opposed him and suggested they turn to the mages instead. Cassandra leaned more towards the Templars, but would not oppose going to the mages either and Lady Montilyet tried to be the voice of reason and see both sides. Everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs and no one could get their point across anymore. It was a disaster.

Evuniala had stayed silent throughout most of it, observing the leaders of the Inquisition fall apart. Like Josephine, she could see both sides, but she leaned more towards approaching the mages rather than the Templars. She hadn’t had any real run-ins with Templars in the wilds, but she had heard stories of their brutality towards mages. While a lot of it was probably exaggerated it was enough to give her pause. The mages weren’t much better, however, and if they ran completely unchecked who knew what they could do? She was a mage herself, she travelled through the fade frequently in her dreams and she knew of its inherent dangers and temptations better than most. Magic was an incredible power, and while she understood the mages’ need to be free of the circle the war between them and the Templars had had devastating consequences across the countryside. It would be better for everyone if the mages were brought under Inquisition control, where they could practice their magic safely to help people. Not to mention that the mages were now in the hands of a Tevinter magister. That threat was greater and had to be dealt with, immediately.

Having decided this she turned her attention back towards the mayhem in front of her. Cassandra was restraining the Commander to the best of her ability, the former Templar livid with rage as he tried to lunge towards Leliana. Leliana, on the other hand, had turned to taunting the Commander and danced out of reach every time he made a grab for her, making it even more difficult for Cassandra to restrain him. Was this what they had been reduced to? Some of the sharpest military minds in Thedas, bickering and brawling like children? Over what? Mages and Templars? No wonder there had been no end in sight to the war between the two factions if people felt this strongly about the different sides.

She stared in disbelief at the scene, feeling the beginnings of a headache bloom across her temples. She dearly wanted to just turn on her heel and storm from the room, to go nurse said headache as well as hide somewhere, but she resisted the urge.  
“ENOUGH!” The word cracked, sharp as a whip, across the room and the effect was immediate. Everyone fell silent and turned in stunned astonishment towards her. She very rarely raised her voice, very rarely lost her temper. This was the first such display since she had fallen out of the rift, despite the fact that she had been hoarding pent up anger and frustration for weeks now.

She stared at the four of them and pulled herself up to her full height… which was not very impressive, considering she was a lot shorter than they were, but it made her feel better at least.  
“Enough. You have been at this for hours and you haven’t come closer to reaching a decision. Instead you are behaving like a bunch of children. Screaming and shouting. I thought you were all adults, well-mannered adults who knew how to argue without it turning into a mud-slinging contest. I doubt there is anyone in Haven who haven’t heard what you’ve been arguing about.”  
She glared at each of them in turn, her disappointment and anger rolling off her in waves. At least they all had the grace to look ashamed of themselves. Cassandra was the first to break the silence.  
“You are right. We have handled the situation badly. We are too involved in the matters ourselves, perhaps. Maybe you see something we don’t?”  
Evuniala blinked in surprise at Cassandra, slightly taken aback.  
“You want my opinion on this?”  
“Someone must make a decision and we have made it pretty clear none of us can. But you have a different perspective.”  
“Well… I can see the merit in going after the Templars. I am not sure about their abilities exactly, but you mentioned something about supressing magic Commander?” She looked to the Commander for confirmation. He crossed his arms across his chest and nodded.  
“It sounds very useful and a lot of people would probably feel safer with them around… however, the mages present a threat the Templars, at present, do not. The mages are under the control of a Tevinter magister. Think about that for a moment. Think about what that alliance could do, should we leave it at our backs as we go after the Templars.”  
She let that sink in for a few moments before continuing.  
“I am no expert in strategy, but even I can see the obvious. The Tevinter magister need to be dealt with and the rebel mages need to be brought under Inquisition control. Everyone will be safer that way. And… and that’s my opinion.” She nodded once, to underline what she’d just said and awaited their reaction.

She saw hurt and panic flash in the Commander’s eyes before he sighed in resignation and rubbed his neck. A part of her felt sad at that, since she figured she’d just destroyed any chance of a good working relationship with the man, but her mind had been made up. They would reach out to the mages. She looked at everyone in turn, and they all nodded their consent. Finally, a decision had been reached and they could start to plan their assault on Redcliffe.

*

She felt great. She hadn’t a couple of hours ago. But now she felt absolutely marvellous! Everything was bright and shiny…and rather fuzzy around the edges, but that was fine! Just fiiiiiiine! She felt like dancing, but a tree had stepped into her path. She snarled angrily at it to make it move. It did not. But she would not allow a silly tree to get in the way of her happiness! Nope! Three steps to the side and she could walk past it. She did, with some difficulty. The tree had apparently been upset by her snarling and placed its roots in her way, trying to trip her. Evil tree.

There was a tree-free space ahead and she aimed for that, kicking up snow in great swirls as she went. Once she reached the clearing she tilted her head up towards the sky.  
“Fuzzy stars… so pretty.” She closed her eyes and twirled in place, sighing happily. Redcliffe had not been pretty. It had been very red. All over. Awful. And stupid. And the others… no! Better not think about that. Blood, red and…no! Bad thoughts! Go away! The stars were bright though. Shiny. Silvery. Sooooo pretty.  
Her happiness was shattered moments later by a chorus of worried voices.  
“Herald? Herald?! Where are you?!” Cassandra. She should have drunk some of that delicious stuff the Iron Bull had been sharing in the tavern. It would make her happy too. And less shrieky.  
“Boss? You out there?” Why was the Iron Bull yelling after her too now? That was no fun. Everyone should be happy! Everything was fiiiiiiine!

Until they all relaxed and calmed down she would not go back. No. She would stay out here, under the stars and be… fine. Yes. Perfect. Mhm. Juuuuust fine. She plonked herself down on the ground, quite pleased with the way the snow suddenly poofed up around her like a cloud. This was perfect. No one would think to look for her here. She leaned backwards, arms still stretched out, keeping her gaze locked on the stars above. She blinked a few times. So sleepy. Sleep would be good. And the snow was very soft. The liquor was keeping her warm and she was so very tired all of a sudden. Maybe if she closed her eyes for just a moment…

“Lethallan? Garas quenathra? Why are you here?” Fingertips against her cheek, a hand trying to pull her up. She attempted to struggle and bury down into the snow again. She just wanted to sleep. She was so tired…  
“You cannot sleep here, da’len.” Why not? It was the perfect place to sleep, actually. And she didn’t have the energy to move anyway.  
“You will freeze. Come now, da’len. You cannot stay here.”  
“Can.”  
“No, you cannot. I will help you.” The fingertips left her cheek and instead hands were pulling her up to standing, pulling her up against something solid… and warm. So warm. She leaned into that warmth, sighing contentedly.  
“Can you walk?” Could she? She had no idea. She tried moving her feet and stumbled almost immediately. Warm hands caught her, kept her up.  
“Lean on me, da’len. I will bring you back.”  
“No. Don’t want to.”  
She could feel him sighing beside her, but he didn’t let go.  
“Let us try walking again. One foot in front of the other…” She tried again and this time she actually managed to take a step, it was a stumbling step, but a step all the same. She was stubbornly keeping her eyes closed though. If she did, maybe she would fall back asleep again. She could sleepwalk! Yes, sleepwalking sounded like the greatest plan ever!

She felt the warm presence beside her begin to move away and suddenly she felt the icy cold all around her and it became imperative to stick to that source of warmth. She lunged at him, almost toppling the two of them over back into the snow but he managed to keep them both on their feet.  
“Warm.”  
“Yes. Warm. It will be even warmer back in Haven. Do you want to stay warm?”  
“Yes…”  
“Then come with me, da’len.”  
He led her gently forwards, keeping her flush against his side, and after what felt like forever she could hear the clamour and noise of Haven, as well as feel the warmth from the torches and fires seep into her bones bit by bit.

Soon she found herself led inside a house and gently pushed down onto something soft. A bed, she guessed. She felt her boots being pulled off, and then her clothes were being removed as well. She made a weak noise of protest at being stripped, but by now she was shivering violently and her thoughts were completely narrowed onto staying warm. Several blankets were wrapped around her, like a cocoon, and she could hear logs being put into the fire. The bed dipped a little and the fingertips were back against her cheek, brushing the hair from her face. She very carefully opened her eyes and blinked up at Solas rather owlishly.  
“Solas?”  
“Yes, da’len?”  
“I did something incredibly stupid, didn’t I?”  
Solas made a noise that contained both amusement and annoyance.  
“We will talk tomorrow. For now, just sleep.”  
“Mmkay… stay?”  
“I will stay. Walk safely in the fade, Evuniala.”  
Lulled by Solas’ gentle caresses across her cheek and over her hair she drifted off into sleep.


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evuniala regrets her actions of the night before, but she is not out of trouble just yet.

Solas was gone when she woke the next morning, but the steaming mug sitting on her bedside table, along with a note, let her know that he hadn’t left that long ago. She sat up slowly and almost immediately regretted the action as her head swam and all she wanted to do was to hurl over the side of the bed. She managed to keep it down, but barely, and reached for the cup instead. With any luck it would be a healing brew to help settle her stomach.

Evuniala took a large mouthful of the drink and almost spit it back out again. The stuff tasted absolutely vile! What on earth was in it?! Was Solas that upset with her that he wanted her dead? She eyed the cup in her hand with some measure of suspicion before turning towards the accompanying note and read through it.

> _“Da’len,_  
>  _Please drink this. It will make you feel better, I promise. It is an ancient remedy, a family secret if you will. I assure you that it is quite effective and its restorative powers are remarkable._
> 
> _P.S.  
>  If your current state is not lesson enough, perhaps the taste of what is in the cup might be. It will hopefully teach you not to be foolish enough to need this ever again.”_

She read through the note several times before turning back to the mug in her hands with a resigned sigh. If it would make her feel better...but was the taste really worth it? The pounding against her temples and the steadily rising nausea made her decide that, yes, if the drink could help, the vile taste might be worth it. With another resigned sigh she pinched her nose and drank down the contents of the cup. But despite the vile taste, she did feel better, strangely enough. Not well enough to leave bed just yet, but better. She fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes as the slightly fuzzy memories of the night before returned to her. 

She could feel the heat of shame rise to her cheeks as she recalled how she had acted, how she had turned to drink to drown out the Nightmare that had been Redcliffe, how she had tried to drown out the knowledge of what would happen to the world should she somehow fail in the task that had been laid before her. Keeper Deshanna would be so disappointed in her if she knew how weak her student had become. She could almost feel the weight of her mentor’s disappointed stare settle around her shoulders like the heaviest cloak, no matter that the Keeper was hundreds of miles away from her at present. It was not a pleasant feeling at all. Creators, she had acted like such a child! Solas insistence on calling her “da’len”, “little one”, had always grated on her nerves, but now she wondered if it hadn’t been justified. Her actions the night before proved beyond a doubt that in some respects she was very much a child still; not ready for the responsibilities and burdens of adulthood...no matter that she was well past her actual childhood years and had thought herself an adult for a long time. With another sigh she closed her eyes and sought to return to sleep. Solas’ potion had made her feel better, but some additional sleep probably wouldn’t go amiss either...not to mention that she wasn’t ready to face Solas, or anyone else, just yet.

*

When she woke up the next time she was feeling strangely refreshed and restored; the vile concoction Solas had left for her had worked wonders. She slipped out of bed and took her time to dress. She knew she was stalling, but she had a nagging suspicion at the back of her head that she would receive a vicious tongue lashing for her behavior the night before as soon as she stepped outside the door, so her hesitation to get ready was natural. Childish, certainly, but natural all the same. However, what had happened at Redcliffe was still hanging like a cloud of doom over her head and she could feel the anxiety building in the pit of her stomach once again. It had been an absolute nightmare, vicious and horrifying in its finality, and she was not ready, would never be ready, to carry the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Never.

“Breathe, Evuniala. Deep, slow breaths...do not lose control. You cannot afford to.” she whispered under her breath as she fought to push the anxiety back down. Sparks of unrestrained power and electricity sizzled down her nerves and crackled at her fingertips in response to her panic and fear. With a muttered curse Evuniala continued to repeat her mantra over and over, trying her best to ground both her raised power as well as her anxiety. It took tremendous effort, but eventually she felt enough in control that she could step outside of her small sanctuary. A chill wind, heralding the coming of winter, greeted her and whipped her dark chestnut tresses around her face. No one was waiting outside her house, like she had half expected, and she could make her way up to the chantry undisturbed.

*

He heard the door to the war room open and close behind him. He knew who it was without having to look; her magic sent little sparks singing along his nerves, just like always. Their Herald. The elven apostate. Evuniala. He felt the, now familiar, anger and fear rise in his chest and he had to fight hard to keep himself from turning around and yell at her and berate her for...well, everything. She had, despite his and Seeker Pentaghast’s protests, gone against their wishes and headed to Redcliffe to win the rebel mages to their cause...and won them she had. He still did not know all the details of what she had faced while she dealt with the Tevinter magister who had taken control over Redcliffe, Evuniala’s report had been very barebones, but no matter how bad it had been it didn’t excuse her decision to -ally- with the mages instead of conscripting them into service.

That many unbound and uncontrolled mages wandering freely around Haven was a tremendous danger...but the Herald refused to see that. She had refused to listen to reason and had allied herself with those who shared her power. Of course she had. And then she had vanished. After delivering her report, she had vanished completely. She had been gone for -hours-, until Solas had found her roaring drunk and sleeping in a drift of snow. She could have died! Froze to death! With an annoyed snarl he raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck to help relieve the anger and unease.  
“Commander?” her voice was kept low and soft and it sent a shiver of an entirely different kind down his spine...which only served to infuriate him further.  
“Commander, where is everyone?”  
“Not here, as you can see. We had to make do in your absence, as you saw fit to sleep most of the day away.” he growled, still refusing to look at her as he kept his attention on the sprawling map that was spread across the large table in the middle of the room.  
“I apologize for my behavior last night. It will not happen again.” she sounded sincere enough, but he thought he heard a thread of annoyance in her voice as well.  
“Make sure that it doesn’t. You have forced extreme danger upon us, it is only fair that you step up and take responsibility for it.” the words came out sharper than he had intended and he could feel her magic surge in response to her sudden hurt and anger.  
“What danger would that be, commander? The breach? You can hardly blame me for that. In fact, all of you keep reminding me that I might be the only one who might have the slightest chance of closing it. The rebel mages, however...yes, I will take responsibility for bringing them here. But I had no choice. Leaving them in the clutches of that Tevinter magister would have been the doom of us all...trust me on that.” 

Her magic flared brighter and brighter with every word, despite her voice never rising in volume. He could, however, hear the note of pure steel that entered into it and knew that he’d really stepped in it this time. But he was not in the mood to be reasonable. He was afraid of the mages and what havoc they might bring down upon them all. He was furious at Evuniala for endangering them all, despite her claims of not having had a real choice….and he was also furious at her for almost freezing to death. Why the last one mattered so much to him was not something that he wished to examine closer right at this very moment, so instead he lashed out again.  
“...and keep that magic of yours under control!” he snarled as he finally turned to face her...and ended up momentarily stunned at the sight of her. 

She was a small woman, like most elves, but unlike the rest of her kin she was not waifishly thin. Instead she possessed a rather compact, yet slender, build. Others of her kind had long, smooth limbs, but Evuniala’s were corded with muscle, speaking of someone who was used to hard, physical work...and right now every muscle in her body was riddled with tension. She wore no physical weapon that he could see, but the purple sparks dancing at her fingertips were evidence enough of how dangerous she was. She radiated power, despite her small frame and he had to admit to himself that she looked surprisingly intimidating; formidable even...and then his gaze caught on her hair as it cascaded down her back in soft waves. Cullen suddenly found himself having to stomp down the very inappropriate urge to step up to her and run his hands through the silken tresses. His eyes rose to meet her gaze at last and his breath hitched as he took in her expression; hurt and fury blazed in her moss green eyes and he immediately wished that he could take his words back. But there was no help for it now.

“I should control myself? _**I**_ should control myself? You let your fear run rampant and control everything in your life. You let it destroy everything in your life. _**I**_ do not need a lesson in control from _**you**_.” she hissed out the words before spinning on her heel and heading out the door, slamming it shut with considerable force behind her. Cullen stared after her for a few long minutes before burying his head in his hands. Maker’s breath, what had he done?


End file.
